


Looking Back

by eveshka



Series: Tales of the Dawn King [18]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Spoilers, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 11:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveshka/pseuds/eveshka
Summary: It was all he could do.





	Looking Back

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: T  
> Warnings: None  
> Characters: Gladio Amicitia, Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum  
> Time Period: Immediate aftermath of the Leviathan Disaster  
> Location: Altissia

By the time they found Ignis, he had damn near torn his eye out of his head.

He was screaming, his voice nearly hoarse for it, sounds that Prompto had never heard come from a man and fervently hoped he’d never hear again. It was how they’d found him in the chaos amidst the rubble of the ruined city: Prompto had heard screaming and made for it, Gladio chasing behind. Neither man had expected the man screaming his own death to be Ignis.

Calm Ignis. Poised Ignis. Silently judging Ignis. None of those was the man half buried by brick and stucco, writhing and screaming and by the six, _clawing_ at his eye with gloveless and battered fingers. Prompto slid into the rubble, scrambling back up to reach out and catch Ignis’ hand. It proved a mistake, as Ignis summoned a dagger from his Armiger and flung it at Prompto. The fact that Gladio was on his feet was the only thing that saved Prompto’s life. As it was, the dagger slashed through the younger man’s jacket at his waist.

No sooner had the dagger flown, Ignis was clawing at his eye again, the hoarse screaming reaching a new level of terrifying. Gladio, still holding Prompto aloft by his belt, reached down, picked up a brick, and rapped it smartly against Ignis’ head.

The King’s Advisor went limp, and though it was blissfully silent, Prompto looked on in horror as Gladio set him down. Stoic, the Shield moved to touch Ignis on the neck, then collect the man into his arms and march back the way they'd come, leaving Prompto to grab the wayward dagger and run after his friends, praying to anyone that might be listening that Ignis wasn't dead.

 

Ignis looked so small. The towering presence, the commanding voice, how did it reside in so small a man? And where was it now? Gladiolus Amicitia sat by the bed in the government building now acting as a refuge and makeshift hospital, staring at the waxen and bandaged figure on the bed.

So damn small. And Gladio had just hit him with a brick, hit him on the head and Ignis hadn’t woken once since. Not when Prompto expended hi-potion after hi-potion, and not even when Prompto had resorted to a phoenix down on the trip to the building. He hadn’t so much as twitched when the doctors triaged him in the foyer, nor did he react when they put him on the bed and did what little they could.

They’d cleaned his wounds, examined them, did what they could for the flesh torn from his face, and put salve on the burns and scrapes on his hands and his shoulder. The doctors discussed care with Gladio, and then moved on let Ignis rest. He’d wake when he was ready, and there were other patients that needed care. It was battlefield medicine in the middle of the biggest city in Accordo.

No-one had said anything to Gladio about the torn flesh or lump on Ignis’ head. More likely than not, they’d marked it as just another head injury from falling buildings. But Gladio knew. Prompto did too, not that he was saying anything about it. He was sitting with Noctis in the room down the hall, keeping an eye on him. No-one had seen Lady Lunafreya, though teams were out searching.

 

A doctor came by, and spoke quietly to Gladio, as if she might disturb Ignis, telling the Shield that there might be complications from the injury to his head. Gladio swallowed hard, willing his stomach to stop swaying and asked her to explain. She handed him a paper, handwritten words dancing in front of his eyes as he tried to focus on them. Ignis might not remember what happened to him when he woke. He might not be the same when he woke. He might not wake.

He sat heavily in the chair, thanking her and closing his eyes against the knowledge that he’d done that. He’d harmed Ignis, had done it with his own hand. Some Shield he was, he’d learned nothing from his battle with Gilgamesh. How could he look anyone in the eyes, knowing he’d done this to Ignis? And Prompto knew. He’d been horrified. Even if Gladio had been trying to protect Prompto, he’d _hurt_ _Ignis_.

He got up, unable to simply stay in the room, moving out and down the hall to stick his head in where Prompto sat next to an equally small yet somehow less frighteningly still looking Noctis. “Heyas. Wanna trade? He’s pretty quiet…”

“Sure,” Gladio replied and took up the spot that Prompto vacated. “Ignis is… here. Read this.” He shoved the paper into Prompto’s hand and willed the young man to just leave and read it elsewhere. He couldn’t look the blond in the eyes. Luckily for him, Prompto was the type to trip while reading and walking, so he carried the paper out with him.

Left alone with Noctis, Gladio studied his king. Compared to Ignis, Noctis looked the picture of health. Yes, his skin was sallow, the dark hair a shocking contrast, but there was a sense of life about the young man. His facial features showed a hint of distress, his breathing hitched with the tightness in his lips, and a slight wrinkle at his eyebrow. Noctis might have been out cold, but he was still home. Ignis was… missing.

“Did a bad thing, Noct. Dangerous thing. Dumber than going to the Tempering Grounds. And I need you to wake up and tell me what I’ve gotta do to make it right.” It didn’t work. Noctis kept sleeping. With a sigh, Gladio sat back in the chair and just watched his King.

 

Hours later, Gladio and Prompto had changed places again. Prompto was curled on the bed beside Noctis, lost to the sleep of the exhausted, and Gladio was parked in the chair beside Ignis, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. He’d begged a nurse for some antacids and sat chewing on the chalk-like tablets, the crunch serving to help keep him awake.

He almost missed it when Ignis stirred, a hand lifting, lightly skimming across the bandages on his face. Hand met hand and Gladio watched him move his hands, touching more bandages, searching for his gloves. “Hey. You awake in there? If you’re looking for your gloves, don’t know where they went. You didn’t have them when we found you, and your hands were pretty messed up.”

Ignis moved then to count his fingers as if ticking things off on a list, and Gladio relaxed a good deal. If Ignis was counting, that meant he was all right. He wasn’t prepared, however, for how raspy Ignis’ voice was. “Gladio? What… Noctis?”

“He’s down the hall. He’s okay. You’re the one we’re worried about. You remember anything that happened after we split up?” He had to know. How much damage had he done? How badly had he injured Ignis? His stomach burned and he ate another antacid tablet, choking the fake berry flavor down.

“We… ate… dinner. At Maagho. I had the Lasagna.” Ignis paused. “The rest of it... Possibly trauma. Or a head injury. I recall something…” He started to reach up to his head, and Gladio caught his hand, trying not to touch the bandages, carefully lowering the questing fingers back to Ignis’ chest and patting them lightly.

“It’s okay. They said you might not remember what happened, that the brain does something to memory to protect itself. Gave me a pamphlet to read about it. You still remember what happened, it’s just repressed.”

And then Ignis asked the one question Gladio couldn’t answer. “Gladiolus, what don’t I remember? Why am I here, my hands and face bandaged? What happened to me? What happened to my eyes?”

The roll of antacids hit his lap and Gladio buried his head in his hands. “Not gonna lie Iggy, you’re hurt. But you’re alive and that’s the important thing. We just take it one day at a time.”

Footsteps made him raise his head in time for Prompto to bounce in. It took the blond all of three seconds to realize that Ignis was awake. “Heyas, Iggster!”

Any fear that Gladio still had that Ignis would no longer be himself was allayed when the Advisor opened his mouth. “I believe the last time you called me that was when you threw an Elixir at me in Costlemark. Is it that bad?”

Prompto flinched, glanced at Gladio, and then looked away. “Whatever happened to you took six hi-potions and a phoenix down to keep you alive to get you here, Ignis. No one had an Elixir to throw.”

“Yeah, and if you don't want to remember, that's okay by me.”

Prompto’s head snapped up so fast Gladio was sure the man had given himself whiplash. A frantic look went from gunner to Shield, and then Prompto bit his lip, nodded once, and then turned his gaze to Ignis. “Right!” His voice was loud enough to make himself flinch and he tried again, forced cheer still evident. “Just you rest there and focus on getting better!”

“The two of you are terrible actors,” Ignis murmured, and then grunted in pain.

 

Gladio knew that sound all too well and rose from the chair. He waved his hand at Prompto and slipped out of the room, catching the redheaded doctor from earlier in the hall. “He’s awake, but he’s in pain. Anything you can do for him?”

“Of course,” she checked her watch and then nodded. “He’s right on schedule, too.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pre-filled syringe. “Let’s get him comfortable and check on our other friend, shall we?” They’d begged the staff to keep their identities secret, and after a few whispered conversations, it had been agreed. Altissia had enough to deal with; they didn’t need the Empire stomping in over what Leviathan had tried to destroy.

They walked back into the room and Gladio was surprised to see Prompto by the bed, his hand on Ignis’ shoulder, with Ignis practically clinging to his hand. A panicked look from Prompto told him that the blond wasn’t sure what Ignis was going to do, but the doctor smoothly slid in and leaned over to speak in Ignis’ ear. The needle was uncapped, slid home, and plunger pressed, all before Gladio had a good idea of what she was doing. He was impressed.

His appreciation of her abilities was interrupted by Ignis releasing Prompto’s hand and trying to fend her off, too late. His cry tried to turn into words, but jumbled, and Prompto caught Ignis’ hand gently between his own, moving closer so he could bring those fingers close to his chest. “I’ve got you, just rest. Let your body heal.”

Ignis passed out again, the doctor excused herself, and Gladio sent Prompto back to watch over Noctis. Looking back on it, Gladio had injured his friend; keeping watch over Ignis was all he could do.


End file.
